


Heaven is just You and Me

by shit_happens_bitchachos7



Series: Good Omens Post-Canon [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Affectionate Aziraphale (Good Omens), Angst, Crowley can't deal, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Platonic Relationships, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Romantic Relationship, Touch-Starved Crowley (Good Omens), a walk down the memory lane, aziraphale is affectionate, hand holding, it gets sad at some point but it's gonna be fine, the thing i hate the most about posting fics is the tags i never know what the heck to put in, they just love each other okay?, whichever you want it can be either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21805480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shit_happens_bitchachos7/pseuds/shit_happens_bitchachos7
Summary: “Do you remember it, Crowley?” asked Aziraphale, breaking the silence.He lazily turned his body towards the angel as he spoke. “Remember what, Angel?”“Heaven,” he said after a moment of hesitation.______________________________________________________Even after 6000 years of looking over their shoulders, Crowley and Aziraphale are finally free from Heaven and Hell, and Aziraphale has some curiosities about his demon's past. However, he finds out new things about his own creation and the Fall.Can be read as romantic or platonic.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Post-Canon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1577710
Comments: 6
Kudos: 117





	Heaven is just You and Me

**Author's Note:**

> There is no plot, just a combination of angst and fluff. Could be read as romantic or platonic, the bottom line is they love each other. If there are any warnings to be added, let me know. Constructive criticism welcome.  
> Enjoy!

The week after the Apocalypse - or the Almostpocalypse - found Aziraphale and Crowley in the back of the bookshop, sitting at a table in comfortable silence. Neither of them was busy with anything in particular. Almost dying tends to put a lot of things into perspective. No book was interesting enough to distract the angel from the recent events, and no amount of alcohol was going to erase Crowley’s memories. So instead of doing those things, the two occult beings - well, one occult and the other one ethereal, depending on which one you were asking - chose to enjoy each other’s presence, especially since they didn’t have to be on alert in case Heaven or Hell decided to make their appearance. Speaking of...

“Do you remember it, Crowley?” asked Aziraphale, breaking the silence.

He lazily turned his body towards the angel as he spoke. “Remember what, Angel?”

“Heaven,” he said after a moment of hesitation. “I mean, I understand if that is a delicate subject for you, I shouldn’t have asked in the first place-”

“I do,” said the demon despite not being keen on talking about Heaven so soon after he was there. But he couldn’t deny his Angel, now could he? “Not a lot though. I forgot many things over the millennia,” he added, inspecting his nails like they were the most interesting things in the world at the moment.

Aziraphale’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity. Crowley never talked about Heaven, at least not about his personal experience with it. The angel had to admit, he had been curious for centuries about Crowley’s past, but he’d never dared to ask. In the light of the recent events, however, he had a revelation. Life was too short - even for immortal beings - to not ask, to not feel, to be scared.

“Do you miss it?” he asked.

“Do _you_?” the demon shot back, annoyed. “Sorry, Angel, it’s just that… I thought going back there was going to change something for me. That I would feel that - _feeling_ again. Hard to describe in human words, ” he said, annoyed with himself, this time, for not being able to put his thoughts into words. This also added to the frustration that he actually _wanted_ to talk about it, tell his Angel everything he wanted to know, no matter how much it would hurt. “But I didn’t feel anything different. Demon and all that, I guess” he mumbled, more to himself.

“I… don’t, not really. Miss it, that is,” replied Aziraphale, already starting to regret he brought it up. He could see it on Crowley’s face that he was uncomfortable, but he couldn’t help his curiosity. “I don’t understand why you’d miss that feeling, every time I had to go there, I couldn’t wait to leave and come back to Earth.”

“What are you on about?” the demon asked incredulously.

“You know, that feeling I had every time I went there, the… coldness of it all,” he explained. “Like I was in a cave and every sound I made echoed ten times louder _everywhere_. Very stressful, really.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale like he was talking in a language he didn’t speak. “That’s… that’s not what Heaven felt like! Quite the opposite, actually. A feeling of- of warmth and - ugh - belonging.” _Just like when we accidentally touch_ , he thought, but didn’t dare to say it out loud.

In fact, now that he thought about it, that was one of the reasons he approached the angel 6000 years ago, there was so much warmth radiating from him and he couldn’t resist it. He wouldn’t have told any other demon about that, of course. They all missed Heaven in some way or another, but admitting it would have been a sign of weakness, betrayal even. So they all kept their mouths shut. Weirdly enough, Hell _did_ feel like a cold empty cave where you had to be careful what you said, or else it would bite you in the ass. How was it possible that Heaven felt like that? Weren’t angels supposed to be beings of love?

“I- maybe it was because I never belonged there. I’ve always been more fond of Earth anyway,” said Aziraphale. “And I guess that so were you,” he added, looking into the demon’s eyes right through the sunglasses, hoping he would understand what he really meant. _I’ve always been more fond of you_, _my dear._

“Guess so,” Crowley mumbled, keeping his thoughts to himself. Which he found he was very bad at, so he shared them anyway. “But Heaven felt much different… back then. I’ve always thought Heaven never suffered from The Fall, but it seems like it was just Hell with a different name slapped on it.”

“I don’t remember it, you know, The Fall,” said Aziraphale. “And the other angels never talked about it, we all just knew that it happened and why. But nothing else, it was never discussed.”

“They must’ve been scared to talk about it, fearing they might be next,” offered Crowley. “But you couldn’t have remembered it anyway, you were created after it happened,” he added matter-of-factly.

Aziraphale choked on air. Where did that information come from? And how did Crowley seem to know more about Heaven than he did?

“You alright, Angel?”

He ignored the question. “How could you know such a thing?”

Crowley sighed. He had made his bed, it was time to lay in it. “The Garden was God’s project before The Fall happened, as you know. She wanted to make four Guardian Angels to, well, guard it I guess. Fat lot of good that did.”

“But… I’ve never met the other three angels! I was the only one guarding the Garden.”

The demon suddenly looked uncomfortable. He had said too much, and now he couldn’t just change the subject. He never should have said anything about it, why was he so _stupid_?!

“Crowley, please,” the angel pleaded after a pause longer than he would have liked from the demon in front of him.

“It’s in the past, what does it matter now?” he deflected.

“It matters to me!” shouted Aziraphale. Seeing Crowley flinch at his sudden outburst, he regretted it immediately. He softened his tone as he extended his left hand across the table and rested it on Crowley’s. “I know this is hard for you, my dear, but I want to know. All these years I never questioned anything, I lacked the courage. But now I can’t keep every question to myself in fear of what Heaven would do to me. I’m not scared anymore.”

In Crowley’s opinion, Aziraphale could have told him the recipe for bread pudding instead, it wouldn’t have made a difference. The moment their hands touched - and not by accident, but because the angel wanted to! - he would have given him the moon had he asked for it. He swallowed all of his pain, pushed away all of his feelings, and kept talking.

“The first three - Guardians of the Northern, Southern, and Western gates - were created before the Fall. I was there for that part, saw them brought into existence by God Herself, as did all of Heaven. I think that’s what started it really. The rebellion, I mean.”

“How so?” asked Aziraphale, noticing he forgot to retract his hand. But Crowley didn’t seem to mind much, so he left it there. Instead, he leaned over the table just a little bit, as if the two of them were sharing a secret. And in a way, they did, because there was no other angel and no other demon in the entire creation who would dare to bring back the ghosts of the past.

“These three angels, well… They were different. Curious. While the rest just went with whatever God wanted, they kept asking questions. ‘Why does the Garden need Guardians if there is only God and Heaven?’, ‘Why are humans going to be created, is She bored with the angels?’ and so on. At first, nobody paid them any attention. But the questions stuck in some of the angels’ minds, and when Lucifer started talking about them… others listened. Charming bastard, I’ll give him that. I just thought it was fun, discussing, debating...”

Crowley felt the angel’s hand squeezing his own slightly, keeping him grounded. Taking in a deep breath, he turned his own hand under Aziraphale’s, careful to not disturb it, making their palms touch. In response, Aziraphale pulled his hand back enough to grab his fingers and squeeze once more.

To say that Crowley was shocked would be an understatement. Not even in his wildest dreams he would have imagined his angel would ever touch him so… deliberately. Affectionately even.

Focusing on the touch, he drew courage from it and continued his story. “What started as good-natured discussions, ended as anger and resentment, mostly towards Her. I didn’t know what to do, so I did nothing. I just stood there and listened to their plans of taking over Heaven, and putting an end to the whole ‘creation of the human race nonsense’ as they called it.”

Crowley didn't notice that he was crying. Tears were falling from his eyes silently because now - unlike the other times when he thought about the Fall and sobbed uncontrollably, broke things, and screamed at the sky - there was an angel holding his hand reassuringly.

The demon forgot that this story was supposed to be about Aziraphale, not himself. It was so easy to get lost in the past, especially when his last days in Heaven were so vivid in his memory. He guessed that was also a form of punishment, remembering what he had and then lost, what he had to live with.

He took his sunglasses off with his free hand and set them on the table, wiping his tears away. Aziraphale wanted answers and he couldn’t ignore his request, he had to get it together.

“Anyway, you know what happened after that. Everyone who ever entertained even the idea of disobeying fell, including the three Guardians. And after that, you were created. Guardian of the Eastern Gate.“

“I wasn’t that different from them, though, was I? Gave my sword away,” said the angel with a sad smile on his face.

This time, Crowley was the one who squeezed his fingers in order to calm him down, let him know he’s there no matter what. Aziraphale felt like crying and laughing at the same time.

“I wasn’t kidding, you know, when I said you did the right thing,” the demon said softly.

“You implied that I might have done the wrong thing!” the angel protested, removing his hand from Crowley’s hold to gesticulate dramatically.

“I was just trying to make fun of the situation, I was stressed out myself! I didn’t mean it!“ he defended himself, trying not to reach for the other one’s hand. “And no, you were not like the other Guardians, you were… kind. You chose humanity over God and you didn’t even get as much as a scolding from Her. And you were nice to me, despite _me_ being the reason you gave your sword away.”

“Oh, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, “I never blamed you for that, never even crossed my mind.” He reached for Crowley’s hand, with both of his hands this time, and held on. “Thank you for telling me all of this, dear. I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

“Ngk” was all Crowley could manage to say. Was he ever going to behave normally when the angel touched him? He highly doubted it. And just as he thought he managed to get it together and act like the cool demon he pretended to be, Aziraphale leaned over the table and into his personal space, and kissed the base of his nose, right between his eyes. If he was human, Crowley was sure he would have had a stroke right there and then.

After a few moments - or hours, Crowley wasn’t sure - he seemed to regain control over his thoughts and actions. Aziraphale had already retreated back into his chair, beaming at him as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Are you- are you alright, Angel?” asked the demon, feeling like he had hallucinated the whole thing.

“Are _you_?” the angel inquired.

“As alright as I’ll ever be,” he replied, still trying to figure out if he imagined the other one kissing him or not.

Aziraphale simply smiled understandingly and stood up. “I’ll go make us some tea.” As he passed Crowley, he stopped, leaned down, and kissed his head. He then ran his fingers through the fiery locks with the excuse of arranging them back into place, as if he’d done it a thousand times before. He realized that he could spend hours, even days, doing this. Which reminded him, he had promised to make tea for his demon, even though he was sure he didn’t mind waiting for it a while longer.

As Aziraphale went to the kitchen, Crowley’s brain came back online.

“Oh, Angel,” he whispered to himself, “you’re going to be the death of me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

my tumblr link: <https://shit-happens-bitchachos.tumblr.com/>

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Any constructive criticism welcome, as well as kudos and any kind of comment. If you want to talk/send an ask, you can find me on tumblr (https://shit-happens-bitchachos.tumblr.com/)


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